Happy St. Patrick's Day

🍀💚☘️

Mar 17, 2025

Hi History Lovers,

Today is of course St. Patrick’s Day, but in my house we’ve been making a St. Paddy’s month of it — corned beef and cabbage, leprechaun and four-leaf clover shaped cookies, pints of Guinness, which I wrote about in a previous newsletter in honor of my Irish barmaid heroine in IRISH EYES, and even a kilt run to benefit the Belmar/Lake Como, NJ St. Patrick’s Day Parade Committee.

Some of these festivities are modern day interpretations of the holiday, but the St. Patrick’s Day parade has a long and proud tradition, with the New York City parade being the oldest and largest in the world. The first NYC St Patrick’s Day parade was held on March 17, 1762 — that’s fourteen years before the signing of the Declaration of Independence! Back then, “the wearing of the green” wasn’t just for fun. Among Irish expats, it was an act of pride and a glorious expression of freedom. You see, along with speaking the Irish language, Gaelic, the British had banned wearing green in Ireland.1 Imagine how good it must have felt to don green without fear of reprisal!

On March 17, 1899, as the St. Patrick’s Day parade filed down Fifth Avenue, a fire broke out in the Windsor Hotel, a fancy hotel that offered a bird’s eye view of the parade and was consequently filled to capacity with locals and out-of-towners. Nearly every fireman in the city was passing by in his dress blues when the first billowing black smoke cloud was sighted. Reading about this historic fire, which resulted in terrible tragedies but also daring rescues, I knew I had to find a way to put it in a novel someday.

In my historical novel, IRISH EYES, Rose and her German friend, Gerta are working in the Windsor as chambermaids on St. Patrick’s Day 1899. Rose is making her rounds cleaning the guest rooms and sneaking peeks of the passing parade when fire breaks out.

For more on the St. Patrick’s Day fire of 1899, read my previous newsletter.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day and enjoy this excerpt from Irish Eyes!

Friday, 17^th March 1899

Drums and bagpipes announced the parade’s approach. Drawn out by the warmish weather, thousands stood three-deep along the roped-off sidewalks of Fifth Avenue, many with shamrocks pinned to their hats and lapels and waving miniature Irish flags.

Unfortunately, the fifth-floor room I hadn’t finished making up was on the hotel’s 47^th Street side and thusly out of view. Stripping off a pillowcase, I glanced at the wall clock. Three o’clock. Telling myself there was no harm in having a peek, I slipped out into the hallway and made my way through the connecting corridors to the closest concourse. A broad bank of windows faced onto Fifth. Quite a few hotel patrons and several staff were installed there already. I glimpsed Gerta standing off to the side and made my way over to her.

Her gaze flickered to me. “It is just reaching us.”

Standing on tiptoe, I peered past one lady’s feathered hat to the avenue below as the first of several brass bands marched by, instruments and gold braid gleaming in the soft March sunshine. Next came the fire wagons wrapped in green and orange bunting, the strapping firemen in their steep helmets, riding inside or marching along, decked out for the holiday in dark blue dress coats with double-breasted silver buttons.

“O’Neill, over here! You too, Mueller.”

Gerta and I shared a look. That baying bellow could belong to but one woman. We turned to the head housekeeper, Mrs. Tolley, bearing down upon us.

“What do you two think you’re up to?”

For once, I was the first to speak up. “Watching the parade, missus.”

Her pinched face puckered. “How many times must I tell you, it’s not missus, it’s madam?” She turned to Gerta. “You, you’re paid to launder, not loiter.” Swinging back to me, she added, “And you to clean. I know for a fact No. 536 remains to be made up.”

I swallowed. “Sorry, Mrs. Tolley. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t. Now back to work, both of you.”

Gerta waited for her to walk away before asking, “It is only the one room to finish?”

I nodded. “Cleaning’s done, but the bed’s still to be made. When I knocked this morning, the lady’s maid said missus – madam – was sleeping in.”

Gerta grimaced. “These lazy peoples, do they not know it is your Irish holiday?”

I smothered a smile, for the celebration, the parade especially, was an American invention entirely. In Ireland, we observed the saint’s day quietly and mostly soberly, for it fell during Lent.

“I’d best be getting back. You can tell me about it later.” I dragged my gaze from the window and turned to go.

Gerta’s hand on my arm stayed me. “I will bring the linens from the press and meet you there. With two of us, the work will go very fast.”

“That’s good of you, but I couldn’t.”

But Gerta was adamant. “Friends, this is what we are for.”

Rushing back to the room, I caught a whiff of something charred but gave it little mind. Some gentleman’s smelly cigar, most likely. Mindful of the ticking clock, I picked up my step and let myself back inside No. 536. I’d just shucked off the bottom bedsheet when garbled shouting from the street sent me hurrying over to the window. Sure enough, another chant rose, and that time, there was no mistaking the crowd’s caroling.

“Fire!”

Heart hammering, I flew across the room and set my palm upon the door, the panel warmish. Inching it open, I peered out. The corridor I’d only just come through was choked with smoke and fleeing people. A few guests had on their coats, several more carried precious pets or cherished possessions, but most wore only their indoor clothes and were empty-handed.

I fell back inside. Willing myself to calm, I told myself all I need do was dart down the hall, gather Gerta, and together, we’d descend the nearest stairwell to safety.

I rushed to the washstand, snatched up a facecloth, and dunked it into the washbasin I hadn’t gotten around to emptying. Covering my nose and mouth with the wet cotton, I slipped out into the hall and joined the stampede.

“Gerta!” I called, my raised voice barely making a dent in the din. “Gerta!” With luck, she was safe outside, as worried for me as I for her.

Ahead, someone got the stairwell door open. Flames flared, beating us back. Though I held to the rear, I felt the blistering upon my brow. We whipped about and charged toward the opposite end of the corridor.

A wall of fire met us there as well. Flames licked our faces. Smoke choked our lungs. I felt as if my flesh must be melting. The fear ratcheted. Pushing and shoving broke out as the terrified sought to break free of the bottleneck. Screams rose to the rafters. A baby wailed. Ceiling beams crackled, the flame-riddled wood buckling. The hallway carpet was by then a river of fire. More flames roared from the elevator shaft. People scattered, ducking into rooms and rushing the windows. I watched in mute horror as one by one, guests climbed onto the sill and stepped off, their screams echoed by the onlookers outside.

I beelined back to the room from whence I’d come. Perspiration poured off me, skirts plastered to my sweaty legs. Bracing my breath, I lowered the towel from my face and used it to turn the doorknob, the brass now molten.

I shut the door and stepped back. My gaze lifted to the lintel and the transom window above it where smoke spilled in through the slats. Coughing, I dragged over a chair and climbed onto the cushion. Arms stretched above my head, I strained to close the casement.

Flames gusted through. I fell back, my howl lost to the chair’s crashing. The carpet cushioned my fall but barely. I curled onto my side, cradling scorched hands to my chest.

Lying there, suddenly I remembered – the safety rope – one for every guest chamber! Sobbing, I used my elbows to push myself upright and scrambled over to the window, left open to air the room.

My heart dropped, my hopes with it. Black smoke banded the four floors below me. Lost cause though I likely was, I mustered myself and screamed.

Save the Date

On Saturday, March 29, I’ll be signing copies of IRISH EYES and STARDUST at the Barnes and Noble in Holmdel, New Jersey, from noon to 3 pm. You can reserve your copy in advance by calling the store: 732-203-6180.

Keep up with all my events here.